


Lollipop

by Straj



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straj/pseuds/Straj
Summary: Approaching the year of the Fire Rooster, so slasher of all stripes now will expire saliva, snot and other crap.





	

Where it all began?  
With a Lollipop that Sherlock was dragged to the crime scene?  
Or comments Anderson?

No, it all started with the fact that Mick to see Sherlock in the guests did not come. Christmas came to Ben, but mindful arrangement with John, did not seem the nose on Baker street.  
John relied on this fact. Well, he is guilty. Would not have banned he may not have all this stuff.

Twenty-fourth Greg called Sherlock and John to a crime scene.  
To die than to get sick on holidays sucks.  
And then... in the most squalid apartment under the mistletoe lay a dead man in a suit of moderate means.

John, even when they were driving, saw the elegant fingers of Sherlock's Lollipop.  
Regular candy in the form of a Cockerel.  
In the car, Sherlock took off the Lollipop wrapper and into his mouth, began to suck him thoughtfully.

At the crime scene Sherlock perked up noticeably, but the Lollipop from his mouth didn't.

— ...found his friends... — mumbled Greg, but Sherlock was not listening.

The room was filled with shouts, sniff, clatter. Sherlock crawled, ran, groped... Then he stood up, took out the Lollipop from his mouth and shoved it in John's hand, and then again began to scour the room...

And then came Anderson.  
What's he doing here?  
And why is rose on the scene?  
Alas, no one knew.

Sherlock straightened up again, he took the candy, shoved it in his mouth and staring at the wall, and began to think.

And then Anderson had signed his own hospital.

— What, cock, ready? — Anderson said.

The room fell silent. Sherlock, emerging from thought, staring at Anderson.  
— You said something?  
— I said you are preparing for the new year, - bawdy grinned Anderson, - little cock licks his cock. Prepare to please Watson? - and Anderson chuckled.

Greg bulging on the slave; John was hot.

— You think? - Sherlock a sharp blow smashed Anderson lips, - and if you don't keep your insignificant IQ in check, I promise you that meeting of the new year you're missing and Christmas will meet in the morgue.  
— This upstart is threatening me! - shouted Anderson.  
— You had it coming, - said Greg, looking with loathing at his subordinate.  
— Do you understand? - coldly asked Sherlock, rubbing his fist.  
Anderson realized that now he would be beaten. And beat a lot, hard and thoroughly, and hastened to make his legs.

***

 

— What were you thinking? — John scolded Sherlock — what's this jerk then?  
— I will not allow every narrow-minded types to mock and denigrate our friendship! — said Sherlock to John.  
— You hit him...  
— Yes, but what was I supposed to do? — said Sherlock, turning the second cock.  
— Why the rooster?! - groaned John, — what's in store else?  
— Do not moan, Sherlock handed him a Lollipop, - lick and calm down.  
— Easy to say, - sighed John,but candy took.

***

 

The rest of the day passed quietly; Sherlock was doing chemical experiments with matter, erased from the lips of a corpse.  
But Christmas started with the fact that John had found on the porch of a sack of candy.  
John shook his head; it seemed to him that a couple of goals quickly disappeared behind the fence, and two, allegedly, is rapidly evaporated.  
— Damn! Fuck! — John swore and went back into the house, after throwing the bag in the trash.  
— What is it? - Sherlock crept out of the room.  
\- Nothing, - muttered John, — go to sleep.  
— Are you sure? - asked Sherlock, but receiving no answer, went back to bed.

John brewed his coffee and began to crawl on stupid blogs. And at one point he stumbled upon something that made his hair stand on end.  
Anderson was narrow-minded or not, but he was smart enough to write slash fanfic about Sherlock and John.

John paled, blushed, and damn he wanted to get to Anderson and kill him.  
From the murderous thoughts he was distracted by a knock at the door. John postponed the laptop and went downstairs.  
— Who's there? — he asked hoarsely.  
— The, — said a familiar voice.  
— Mick?! — John opened the door and stared incredulously at the policeman, — you promised!  
\- Promised, - said Mick, - but I was worried that a Anderson posted. Read?  
— Just finished, - replied John.  
\- To kill him want? And let me into the house, and then there is a whole platoon of slasher entrenched.  
— In terms of?  
— In the sense that the neighboring house, - Mick slipped into the house and began to shake off the snow, - first time I get on a snowy Christmas in London. In the next house entrenched enemy forces in the form of a slasher, which aimed cell phones, binoculars, a telescope at your window, can't wait when you start...  
— Let's get started?  
— Yourself that you do not understand, - Mick looked at John, - something that Anderson in the fanfic I wrote.  
\- I see, - John clenched his fists.  
— Calm down, — Mick smiled, — I have a plan, and I want to discuss with you.  
\- And Sherl?  
— Sherl we face will be disinterested.

***

 

The Evening Of Christmas.  
Dimly flickers on tinsel decorated Christmas tree; the eye socket of the skull darken sprig of fir. Lamp extinguished. Only in the cozy fireplace crackling wood, pulls smoke. Outside the window quietly and silently falling snow.  
Soft flakes glimmer in the lamplight, swirling gusts from the December breeze, carefree and far from all the troubles.  
Chu. The door slammed downstairs.  
The rapid steps.  
Burst into the room, pleased with Sherlock's coat and scarf, covered with snow, which began to resemble a lanky Ghost, and stopped.  
It was what.  
The room, lit only by the fireplace, acquired the features of the cave. Warm and cozy.  
— Take your coat off,Sherl! - came from the depths of the room the voice of John.  
Warm.  
Loving.  
Gentle.  
And native.  
Cheryl removed and a coat, and scarf, and even took off his shoes. He had forgotten what he wanted to tell John.  
He was fascinated by everything going on.  
— Where are you? - asked Sherlock.  
— Come here, — said John, sitting up in the chair.

Sherlock walked to the other on tiptoe and sat down in a nearby chair.  
\- What's going on, John? - his logical mind could not understand why all the secrecy.  
\- Because I felt like it.  
— But...  
— Yes, Yes... Mary with the child on vacation.  
\- I see, - breathed Sherlock, although he could not understand.  
— Want a Lollipop? - asked John and gave Sherlock's cock caramel.  
\- Thank you, - Sherlock sitting comfortably in the chair, removed the wrapper and began licking the Lollipop, lost in the Halls of the mind.

***

 

The first slasher Mick was knocked out by a blow to the neck. All the instruments were destroyed, and the slasher was put in the hands of medical professionals.  
First, second... fourth... tenth...  
When finished with the roof, Mick gave the signal, Shine a laser pointer in the window of a house on Baker street, 221 b.

***

 

— You know, Sherlock, - is as gentle as possible said John, trying not to laugh, - you really are so cute.  
— Eh? - Sherlock barely emerged from the thought, — you said something?  
— I said you're very attractive. Remember when we first met, I asked you whether you had a girlfriend that feeds you? You said that it's not your profile. Then I asked you whether you have a boyfriend? You looked at me, I hastened to add that this is quite normal. You said you know that this is normal. And we found out that you are free and alone...  
— What?  
\- Well, in light of recent events, I think I'm a little in love with you.  
— Even so? - Sherlock opened his mouth; he was surprised.  
Although there is no. He was stunned.  
It was roughly the same when John took his best man on his wedding day.  
— Yes, it is, of course, not that imagine all these pundits who write about how we're doing the Kama Sutra. - continued John, - but I really need you. And important. And shut your mouth. And, for God's sake, take out the Lollipop from his mouth, and then another choke.

— Are you sure? — breathed Sherlock, putting a half-sucked Lollipop on a plate, — you never said.  
— Christmas, you know. I don't want to just sit in silence with your best friend, - John reached over and touched the trembling long fingers, - you're still silly.

Sherlock's fingers pulled it back. For some reason he remembered Mick`s, that, however, his hands did not caress, and preferred to sit with his face to the Sherl`s in the back.  
\- I hope you will allow? — John stood up from the chair and walked over to Sherlock. Hugged his head, had his fingers in the black curls. Sherlock raised his hands and cupped John.  
He was nice and warm.  
And cozy.

The red dot ran along the wall.

John saw her and smiled. The plan was working. He was hot, but also very cozy...  
John was in shirt and jeans, Sherl — shirt and trousers, the jacket remained hanging together with a coat.  
No the camera was not. They with Mick stripped them all and destroyed. And Mycroft, and Moriarty, and hell-knows-who.

— I gala dinner prepared, - muttered John.  
Sherlock raised his head and looked at John with a piercing gaze.  
\- You and I? And all?  
\- Well... Consider that there will be an Orgy...  
— Who? - demanded Sherlock.  
\- Will see, - he evaded John, and just knocked on the door.

— Who's there? - asked Sherlock, leaving John in the kitchen.  
Santa Claus came to you,  
Hard way I found.  
ways, roads,  
you have thresholds.  
Quickly let into the house  
And gifts you find.

Sherlock opened the door. In a whirlwind of snowflakes stood a man, covered with snow.  
— Hello, Sherlock!  
— Mick? Are you here? - the first impulse of Sherlock was to rush to my friend on the neck, but Mick pushed him into the hall and let myself in.  
— Hugs — house.  
\- Why?  
\- Because watching your house.  
— Who?  
— Slasher. Waiting when you and John kiss.  
— What if...  
— Oh! If you're with me, it's NC-21.  
— You're talking about the gifts said...  
— Yeah. Goodies I bought. And now we go to the kitchen and share the gastronomic debauchery. We will, - Mick looked on him with laughing eyes and a singsong voice continued, — to indulge in lust red wine, to taste the erotic Nude Turkey, savor voluptuous, raising language, a variety of snacks, and we'll be okay.

***

 

The guys ate, drank and talked.  
Sherlock was good.  
Christmas with those two whom he loved and adored.  
John was great, because Sherl was good.  
And Mick actually beamed with optimism.

\- How's your business?  
\- An absurd tragic accident, - Sherlock waved his hand, — still ten found...  
— You didn't tell me? — John frowned.  
— I did not, — smiled guiltily Sherlock, - I came home, and here you are... and that tree... and your words... They are all poisoned.  
— What?  
— Do not believe it, brothers... cosmetics.  
— In terms of? — Mick was dumbfounded.  
— How? — surprised John.  
— And that's it. Late gathered guests. They had a snack and drink taken somewhere under the counter. Type cheese products, butter, bread and five bottles of some alcohol.  
\- And?  
— But in fact it was a cream — souffle body, lotion sprayd and "Hawthorn".  
\- I see, - sighed Mick,- that's right, it was the Russians... who else consumes all the cheap...  
\- And we use expensive — grinned John, - let's drink to us!  
\- Great.

But then they heard footsteps in the living room.  
In the kitchen, the boys feasted, closing.  
— Who? — whispered John.  
— Sit here, keep your head down, - said Mick, opened the door, slipped out into the dark living room.

Behind the closed door sounded a single shot.  
The noise from the fall.  
Then the noise from the multiple drops and...  
All was quiet.

And then the door opened and in came... grinning Mick. The gates of his black shirt lost top button, bottom jeans were wet on his left cheek, a fresh bruise, and his right hand on his knuckles.  
— Slasher?  
— They are the best. Six.  
— A little more... and we are free...  
\- Wait, Mick, - until Sherlock began to realize that he might have played a role in an Amateur play staged his friends, — explain to me someone what's going on here?

Mick and John looked at each other.  
— Start you, — Mick looked at Watson.  
-Well, - John took a deep breath and explained to Sherlock what's going on.  
— So... All because of this shot that I have awarded Anderson? — Several Sherlock wasn't upset, he was just hurt that my friends didn't put it in details.  
— We needed everything to be naturally, - said Mick, — you're sometimes a hell of a replay.  
\- You know... - Sherlock stared friends, — I you love... right by the window.  
— Except we didn't need, - Mick in mock horror sat down on the chair.  
\- Yeah, it'll be a surprise, - bowed his head John.  
— Do you have plans?  
\- To continue the dinner, - replied John  
— ... and someone to wait — grinned Mick.  
\- ... and to add to it...  
— ... and show him what his tiny brain will not perceive...  
\- Okay, - Sherlock realized insidious of the proposed plan and took up the interrupted dinner.

***

 

We had to wait long.  
Exactly one hour later two dark figures entered the house on Baker street 221 b, tied Martha and went upstairs.  
But there they were waiting for.  
— Sherl! Get in the bath! — in a hasty whisper ordered Mick, - John? Are you ready?  
\- Of course, - responded Watson, dragging his shirt.

Unknown persons entered the dark living room and froze on the threshold.  
From the darkness came the passionate sighs, oohs, aahs.  
The strangers looked at each other knowingly and moved to the sounds.  
But then...  
A flash of light...  
And in the room entered Sherlock with a towel around his hips.

The light illuminated two stunned faces of Anderson and Moriarty. They were sighted squinting, perplexed, not understanding.  
The couch got John and Mick.  
John was wearing a shaggy wig and short black dress, from under him sticking out blue jeans.  
Mick looked as usual, only on his knees accumulated dust.

\- Hey, perverts! - laughed Mick, — it seems to me that cover your business...  
— So who is the naked Sherlock in uploaded porn sites! — John grimly stared at Moriarty.  
\- WHAT?! - Sherlock walked to Moriarty and heartily embedded. The towel fell, and it was rolled up pants.  
It was Anderson's last straw. He rolled his eyes and collapsed on the floor.  
— I think if you got under the towel was nothing, it would be this circumstance less shocked, — said Mick Holmes.  
— How is he?  
— Fainted.  
— That Moriarty is ready, — John added Jim from soul call the cops.  
— They're coming — said Mick, — and while they were going, sit down and lollipops, and that I have you on the porch the whole bag of this stuff found.


End file.
